.G7465 
COPY 1 


FT MEPDE , 
GenCol 1 

I 







A CHRISTMAS STORY. 


IF. L. s. 


WASHINGTON, O. C. : 

McOILL & WITHEROW, PRINrERS AND STHREOTi'PERS. 

1864. 




THE GOVERNMENT CLERK. 


It was Christmas day. The church-bells rang forth upon the balmy 
air, full and sonorous. Every side-street and every house showed life, 
while “ the Avenue ” was all astir with youth and beauty. 

All the other clerks of our Department had' gone to visit their 
friends or to make short excursions into the country. I had heard 
them laying their plans of pleasure the day before; so I would be 
alone. I was a new broom ’’ at the Department, and new brooms,” 
it is said, “always sweep clean.” As I had a number of difficult 
cases then, or “ Kei-ies,” as they are technically called, to work up, I 
had chosen to come and run through with them rather than to accept 
the many invitations to pleasant walks or visits with my brother clerks. 

The bright sunshine, it is true, almost put to flight these industri- 
ous resolves, and I felt as I pushed the gay crowd of pleasure seekers 
aside, on my way down, very much as a man bent upon suicide would 
feel at a Venetian carnival, where he had to push the joyous throng 
aside to allow him to get to the dark waters beyond. I felt very much 
like turning traitor to my virtuous resolves, but I persevered fortu- 
nately, and in due time arrived at the scene of my intended labors. 

I cannot say, however, that I set to work with any feeling of satis- 
faction. The rooms were close. The church-bells, wdiich had rung 
so merrily on my walk down, now sounded solemn and fliint, like 
funeral bells, or had ceased altogether. The sun too, had suddenly 
hazed over, and although the air was unusually warm for the season, 
it weighed upon one like a night-niare, contracting the lungs rather 
than swelling, them, with a demon clutch at the throat. 

Our offices, consisting of two communicating rooms, were filled with 
that indescribable atmosphere which seems characteristic of such 
places. A blue, smoky gloom, free from Heaven’s sunshine, and in 
comparison with the outer air, like a guilty creature unconscious of 


4 


Ills God. The long rows of formal desks—even the odd scraps of 
paper lying around, scribbled over and over with figures added, figures 
divided, figures, figures everywhere, but aided the gloom. 

One little scrap of paper which I picked up, had evidently been 
part of a letter commenced but never finished by some clerk as fresh 
as myself; but it, too, had perished in the efibrfc to live, as though 
nothing from that dead place could hold communication with the outer 
world. 

I sat down wdth a sigh. My mind’s eye gave me visions enough of 
green fields and happy brother clerks — alive for one day — but before 
me was a huge pile of “ Kei-ies,” kindly left by my predecessor, so I 
had to set myself to the task of reducing them. Some books were 
necessary, however, from the inner room; and what was my surprise 
on entering it to find that I was not alone. An old man, dressed in 
an old and faded suit of black, sat at one of the desks. So engaged 
was he making entries in the huge books before him, that he did not 
seem to notice ray entrance, but, on the contrary, never stopped his 
writing for a moment, either to look at me or to ask how I got there. 

Being a new clerk, I was not acquainted with any of my colleagues 
but those in my own room, so that it was not for me to question the 
right of my fellow-workman to the office, though I did wonder how 
he had gained admittance when I possessed, as I had understood, the 
sole key to the offices. This might be explained readily, however, by 
his having a key of his own for private use; and as to his appearance 
there on a holiday, that was no more surprising thau my own presence. 
He, too, might have Kei-ies ” to work up. 

One circumstance had, to be sure, struck me as rather odd ; the old 
gentleman in the faded suit wrote with a quill, yet there was no scratch- 
ing sound such as is usually produced by writing with such a pen. 
The offices were as quiet now as the grave. The church-bells had en- 
tirely ceased, and not a breath disturbed the vault-like atmosphere of 
the room. I listened, but could hear no sound, and imagining that 
my fellow-clerk had fallen asleep, peeped through the half-closed door, 
but he was still writing away at a terrible rate. This was inexplica- 
ble, for I listened attentively for some sound — so attentively that T 
could hear the beatings of my own heart — yet no other came. 

With a ‘‘ pshaw !” I dismissed the whole subject and set resolutely 
to work again, yet somehow my mind would wander away to that mys- 
terious old man in his faded suit of black, writing away there so noise- 
lessly, in the gloomy air of the back office. It worked so upon me 
that at last I determined to make an excuse of getting some books 


5 


loear liis desk, to watcli his movements move closely. I did so ; still 
he did not notice me for a moment, but wrote away as though in haste 
to complete some task. I drew still closer. What was my wonder at 
finding, although he wrote apparently with extreme rapidity, that the 
page was as virgin as when it had come from the paper mill. 

Noiselessly the pen fiew over the paper, rising and falling with the 
form of the letters, but not a character followed. The page was blank» 

Amused at what I could not but deem the old man^s eccentricity, I 
said, laughingly, 

“ That is but a slow way to get through with one’s work.’^ 

For a moment the old gentleman turned his face towards me, then 
fell to work again without a word. 

I noticed then, what I had failed to observe before. The book in 
which he pretended to write was as sear and yellow as a maple leaf in 
autumn. His face, too, struck me strangely : without color, with a 
care-worn, oh, such a worn expression ! Sad, so sad, that involunta- 
rily I drew back. 

I began to feel a strange sensation of awe creep over me, but another 
feeling was soon to supplant it. 

A low tap at the outer door had pleaded, as it were, rather than de- 
manded admission. I opened it. A young girl thinly clad, too thinly 
clad for the season, in spite of the balmy air, stood outside. In her 
hand, half concealed beneath her faded shawl, she carried a small tin 
can, such as is used by workmen to contain their lunch. Without 
noticing me, otherwise than to raise her great hollow eyes to my face 
for a brief instant, she glided past and entered the inner office. Grlided 
past like a shadow, with no footfall, with no rustle of her garments. 

Watching her, I could see her approach the old man at the desk. 
When he saw her he put down his pen, and taking her two hands in 
his own, gazed sadly upon her. The girl at this hung her head, while 
tears streamed noiselessly down the withered cheeks of the old man. 

Feeling that there was something dishonorable in thus secretly ob- 
serving the sorrows of others, I withdrew to my desk again and took 
up my pen, but could not write. The little pantomime which I had 
witnessed had explained itself so clearly, that my heart bubbled over 
with sympathy. Long I waited to hear a word, but not one was spoken. 
At last curiosity became all-powerful. I peeped through the half 
closed door once more. The old man was not at his desk ; the young 
girl had left it too. I entered the room — it was empty. 

Had what I had seen been a vision ? But 1 had no time to ask 


6 


questions. I liad finished iny task, dinner time was near, and I felt 
that to remain one moment longer in such a gloomy spot would be sac- 
rilege to nature and her joyous invitation, for the sun had again burst 
forth in unusual warmth and life. I thought no more of the vision 
then, until the next morning, when re-assembled with my fellow-clerks 
it again occurred to me. Hastily I glanced over the faces in the inner 
room, the old man’s was not among them. I related the circumstance 
of the day before to my fellows, and after the “major” (the noisiest, 
but best hearted, and hardest worker in the room), had got “ olF a 
line,” he just being in that delicate situation wdien I commenced my 
story — they condescended to listen to me. 

Whilst I had been relating it, the chief clerk of our room looked 
intently at me. When I had finished, he said seriously — “ That is very 
strange !” 

“ Last night,” he continued, “ I was called to visit the deathbed of 
one of our former clerks. He v^ras an old man such as you have des- 
cribed. I found him with some half dozen of his mo'herless children 
about him. 3c was dying of absolute worriment of mind. Hying 
from that terrible effort to make both ends meet, which those who 
know what the effort costs in these times of fearful prices — can alone 
understand. 

“ No one worked better than he. Had he had the moral courage to 
leave the Department and strike out for himself, he could beyond ques- 
tion have made a respectable living and supported and educated his 
children. But the rust of habit was upon him — he had grown old in 
the employ of the Government — the springs of action were forever 
broken. Disappointment and the high prices consequent upon this 
fearful rebellion finished him. A little girl, one of his youngest, had 
come to call me by his side — and following her I passed down the long 
avenue to the miserable locality which was her home. It was Christ- 
mas eve ; people thronged the side walks bearing happy bundles for 
their little ones. I could not but contrast the miserable, shivering 
.child beside me with the children of those men. Gay carriages swept 
past, splashing us wdth mud from their wheels — in them sat Congress- 
men and Senators who would vote to-morrow against this child ; cast 
their mighty influence against this wretched, shivering infant. ‘Eco- 
nomy ’ — ‘ Economy.’ What difference if they do not live up to their 
maxim, so they cry it still ? 

“ Thank God, they are not all so I 

“ At last we arrived at the abode of the dying man. Up two flights 
of stairs into a room lighted by a single candle, whose flame faintly 


7 


and sickly invaded the gloom — as though the golden rays themselves 
had undergone a base chemical change, which had tarnished tlieni — 
lay the sick man. 

His children were squalidly strewn about — for the room was their 
only one. 

“ I saw at a glance that the object of my visit was not long for this 
world, yet as I approached the humble bed-side the sick man recognized 
me. 

‘ Thanks ! Many thanks !’ he said, feebly. ‘ I knew that you 
would come. You were always kind to me at the Department. I was 
desirous that you should see me before I died. You see how 1 die,’ 
he continued, ‘ Look around you— there are not many comforts here?’ 

“ ‘ Were you not able to save something, however small, from your 
salary,’ I asked. 

“ He pointed to the children who clustered wonderingly about me, 
unaccustomed as they doubtlessly were, to the vision of a strange and 
friendly face. 

“ It was answer enough. Indeed, knowing all about it, I could not 
have asked the question for w/ormation ; for what could a first class 
Government clerk save, even under the most favorable circumstances ? 
He read my meaning, and sighing deeply he remarked as though in 
answer — ‘ No — a clerk in one of the Departments cannot save much. 
When, therefore, I became sick, I had to go down at once. Oh, it was 
hard to lie here, consuming the trifle that remained from my last 
month’s salary in medicines, when my poor little ones were wanting so 
many things. It was hard, but the worst was yet to come. My 
daughter — my eldest — the one who was so much like her mother, left 
me. You have seen her — you know that she possessed the curse of 
beauty. More I dare not tell you. Privation, want, disgust at the 
misery at home j temptation on every side ; with no mother to guide 
her; with me, her natural protector, prostrated upon my last bed ot 
sickness. Great God ! I cannot tell you what became of her. 

‘ I know this ’ — he continued energetically, for so great had been 
his excitement in this narration that he had half arisen in his bed, 
and now leaned tremblingly upon his poor wasted arm which seemed 
unable to bear him. ^ I know that she came home one night with 
more money than we had earned honestly in a month. She brought 
it to me. It is there, not one cent of it has been touched. Cursing 
her, I drove her from me — that was the last. 

‘ I felt then a cord snap within my breast that told me all was over. 
From that moment I was dying. You come now to receive my last 


8 


breath. I will not keep you long/ he continued in a still more feeble 
tone. ^ I will not keep you long/ he reiterated. ‘ One thought 
alone now grieves me — what, oh what is to become of my little ones 

The thought was evidently too much for him, for sinking back, the 
hot tears streamed noiselessly down his aged cheeks. In vain I sought 
to furnish some soothing word ; they stuck fast in my throat. I dare 
not hold out false hopes to a dying man. In almost any other position 
in life, he would have been able to have kept something. His talents 
would have commanded a salary sufficiently high, or the city in which 
he lived would have been a cheaper home, thus enabling him to 
clothe, feed, and educate his children. But, as I have said, the rust 
of habit was upon him. The mould of the Departments grown over 
him. 

I could not but moralize upon the dread scene ; and instinctively 
my mind went back to the gay contrast upon the lighted Avenue. I 
saw again the crowds of people hurrying past, their arms laden down 
with presents. I saw them reach home. I saw the cheery glow of 
the warm fire, heard the joyous shout of their little ones as they ran 
forward to meet them. Then my mind came back to the dread scene 
before me. Had this man worked all his lifetime, faithfully worked 
for his Government for this ? It was sad, very sad ! 

“ A sign from the dying man, however, interrupted my reflections. 

‘ It is nearly over,’ he whispered faintly. ‘ It is nearly over ! De- 
serted by my child, my most beloved ) with a life harassed by the 
eternal effort to live, I have no longer anything to stay for. What will 
become of my poor children ? If it were not for that dread question 
I could die happy !’ 

There was a silence of a few minutes. 

A slight stir at the door now aroused me. A young girl had en- 
tered unperceived, her hollow eyes glaring wildly. Pushing by me, 
she rapidly neared the bed of the dying man. 

He is dying. You must not approach,” I whispered in her ear, 
thinking that she was some idler who had been attracted to the bed- 
side of the dying man through curiosity. 

You must not approach,” I continued, interposing my arm as a 
barrier to her progress. 

“ Stay me not,” she cried wildly, I am his daughter !” Then 
throwing herself by the side of the dying man, she sobbed, ^^Father ! 
Father ! I have come to explain all. I am not guilty — so help me 
Heaven I am not guilty !” 

At the sound the wretched father feebly raised his head. 


9 


^^Wlien,” continued the girl, you cast me off I knew not what 
you meant — 

But the money interrupted the dying man, covering his eyes 
with his thin, transparent hands — 

‘‘ The money ?” 

A kind lady lent me the money,” replied the girl. With it I 
hired a sewing machine. Then I worked, oh how I worked, so that I 
could get money for your comfort.” 

And you are still worthy of ray love ?” demanded the poor man, 
eagerly. 

So help me Heaven !” 

With a wild startling cry, the poor man now threw his arms about 
his daughter. 

Heaven be thanked I” he cried fervently. “ Heaven he thanked, 
I can now die in peace.” 

Then a change came over his features. A bloody froth was upon 
his lips, a low moan burst forth from his crimsoned lips. “ I had for- 
got,” he moaned. “ My children, what, oh what will become of 
them ?” 

The thought was overpowering It was his last one. His eyes 
became set and glassy. His head sunk back. The poor Government 
clerk was dead. 

Tearless the poor children gathered about the low couch. What 
could they know of death ? Naught but the wild sobs of the elder 
girl broke the deep silence, as one after the other the poor little ones 
kissed all that now remained of their wretched father. Then taking 
them by their little hands, and leading their sister tenderly away, we 
left the miserable room which had been his last home on earth. 

^ And he has worked for this I murmured sadly and despond- 
ingly.- ^ Yet there are men who begrudge him this !’ 

Suddenly a low sound interrupted my thoughts — a low sound sud- 
denly burst upon my ear. Then rising louder and louder, at last rung 
forth a joyous peal upon the midnight air. It was the signal of the 
birth of that holy anniversary which should bring joy and good- 
will to all mankind. Christmas eve was over with its many con^ 
trasts — the advent of justice and holiness had come. 

The good man had gone home with his presents. The little ones, 
carefully tucked away in their little cribs, had dreamed their dreams of 
coming joys. The poor clerk had died — with no hope for the future — • 
and receiving the first luxury he had known for many years from the 
hands of charity. 

2 


10 


For many years he had served his Government faithfully — his 
last words were, ‘ What, oh what will become of my poor children 
Think of it, ye honorable members of Congress who have little ones 
at home. Think of it, you who have grown-up daughters. You who 
know full well the miseries and enticements of our capital, act upon 
it. Remember it when gathered about your snug Christmas fires, and 
let the poor government clerk have enough at least to save his child- 
ren, and their honor. 


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